The other day, Sam and I were driving in a car with my mom and dad. They mentioned that they were planning to go to a particular store, and I said, "oh! I need a new shower curtain! Can you pick one up for me?"
Then we discussed what kind I wanted. I like the plain, clear ones. Makes the bathroom look bigger.
Sam piped up: "why do we always have a clear shower curtain?"
I explained why I liked it (seriously? why does an 8 year old care about the shower curtain?) and he said, "well, I think we should get one with flowers on it." (It might have been the World's Longest Conversation Ever About Shower Curtains)
"Really, mom. Flowers."
So guess what we got?
Yep, a flowered shower curtain. Our first one ever.
So why is this remarkable? Why am I writing about this incredibly mundane purchase?
I put it up last night. I took a shower this morning. It is different, it is unusual.
It makes me think of Sam.
It makes me think of what it's going to be like when he's not here.
I know that I'm trying desperately to live in the now, in the moment, in the I-have-him-and-I-should-focus-on-that.
But it's hard, oh-so-hard, not to imagine what it's going to be like.
Every time I look at the shower curtain.